What do you write? I write mostly non­fic­tion, usually short essays.    Is there an author or artist who has most pro­found­ly influ­enced your work? I read Marc Hamer’s memoir How to Catch a Mole at the right time and the right place. The book felt like…

POETRY By Summer Hardinge When she writes, Ya need dogs for company, I almost feel as if I need to own one. As a child, I could tame any ram­bunc­tious pup, wild cat, or tena­cious pony. Some­thing like an empa­thet­ic nerve. The dogs in my neigh­bor­hood sense it,…

POETRY By Stephanie Kirby Each birth brings the body closer to death: a birthing body splits like rot, equal in burden to falling trees. Its weight: almost leaf­less.  There is nothing left except a tree in decline, housing life. This anatomy is not so different:…

What do you write? I write popular fiction, poetry, and analog game design. Is there an author or artist who has most pro­found­ly influ­enced your work? Authors who elevate BIPOC voices, such as Pam Pun­za­lan, a ttrpg game devel­op­er and author. Why did you choose Stonecoast for your MFA? Stonecoast helps me…

POETRY By Summer Hardinge tomor­row we will meet the horses/ after they have run the fields can­tered around us /nudged / this is not a war poem/ we use soft ropes/ drape shoul­ders and withers/ coax them in/ they will not halter for this/ is not a…

What do you write? If I don’t reg­u­lar­ly put pen to paper−or fingers to keys−all the frag­ments of stories and ideas would come spilling out on unsus­pect­ing passers­by.  In all seri­ous­ness, I have written in some way, shape, or form since I was very young. I…

POETRY By Russell Karrick Perched in the branch­es of the avocado tree, the chick­ens are almost asleep. My son lifts his head from my chest and points to them. Each day I carry him through the yard at dusk and we hunt for sea­son­al trea­sures. Tonight, he spies amanita muscaria…

POETRY By Kelly Gray Most of the people in the restau­rant have cancer. The wait­ress­es have been hired to float their soft palms across scalps as they walk down aisles pouring soup with too much butter because it is too late to care about anybody’s heart. Better to…

POETRY By Jessica Good­fel­low To write about suf­fer­ing you need a dic­tio­nary. You don’t have one, but you have the inter­net which is, maybe, better for suf­fer­ing. Acci­den­tal­ly, you look up suf­frutes­cent instead. You read: par­tial­ly or slight­ly woody; sub­shrub­by. Sub­shrub­by; you are delight­ed. You…

POETRY By Ben­jamin Faro We, broth­ers, were but boom-swings born of unnamed storms—eighty-eight knot gales that tested Mother’s savvy. Born at the peak of twenty-nine ‑foot swells, we left her con­cussed and rud­der­less, unsteer­ing in our unsaid sud­den­ness, pum­meled by the fetch and wind shear. Shaken by…